


Insanity

by Rowaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:42:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This one's rough around the edges and angry and bitter... and probably the best job I've done of writing teenangst. Go figure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insanity

Written pre-OotP, so please bear that in mind as you read the way Harry describes his relationships with various people.  
  
Disclaimer: I can only wish the characters mentioned in this short fic are mine. Thanks be to JKR for her world and characters!  
  
"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."  
  
Not much more I can say about it. Welcome to my ...  


**Insanity**

  
  
  
Hormones. Growing pains. Adolescence. Bullshit. All labels placed by adults who have blissfully forgotten the most hellish time of their lives. Even at seventeen, a legal adult, these well-meaning fools label me, seeking to explain my fascination with two of the wizarding world's least favorite heroes. People don't want to understand, and they definitely don't want to acknowledge that their Golden Boy is tainted in the same ways as the former Dark Lord who threatened their very existence. It's almost funny, how fast reporters and psychologists wave off my feelings, preferring to think me mentally unstable than to admit my personal choices have validity.  
  
Since my first hesitant steps into this world seven full years ago, the general public placed a freaking halo on my head and wings across my back. They never realized how thorny that halo was, or how far the wings dug into my spine; I don't believe they would care if they knew. My headmaster made me a living martyr, his vaunted Order used me as their symbol, even my would-be friends thrived under my name alone. Only two people saw past the pile of crap and propaganda to the frightened young wizard beneath my hero status. Funnier still, those two people were the first I had ever learned to hate.  
  
A silvery blond with cold grey eyes who lived to throw my "good fortune" and "hero status" in my face at every turn.  
  
Thank you, Draco, for keeping me grounded.  
  
A raven-haired professor with jet black eyes who refused to let me get an inflated ego, who forced me to work harder than just "getting by."  
  
Thank you, Severus, for pushing me to learn about myself.  
  
My loves, my lovers, my life.  
  
\- - - - - - - - - -  
  
There are times where I wish I'd left the bloody world to deal with Voldemort on their own. The only thanks I got for risking my neck at least a dozen times is unwanted attention and slanderous stories from the wizarding press, and a smattering of gossip whenever I walk into a room. I never asked for the job, and never accepted or requested payment for it, but bloody hell, it would be nice if these fools could just leave me alone for a change.  
  
Front page news: what the Boy Who Lived eats for breakfast, which brand of boxers he prefers, what toothpaste makes his teeth so white. Also inside: Rate Yourself! How Do You Rate on the Harry Potter SEX Scale?  
  
Unbelievable. And people actually buy and read this crap. Maybe a few of them would buy acres of this swampland I'm trying to sell too.  
  
They had best hope there's not another Dark Lord due in my lifetime. I refuse to carry the burden of yet another expected miracle on my shoulders. To hell with them all - I've been playing that role long enough.  
  
\- - - - - - - - - -  
  
By now, every wizard and witch over the age of two knows my name, and the well-documented history from my school years. That damned Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and battle after battle just to stay alive while I learn enough about my parent's murderer to face him for the last time. What's the use in rehashing it all? Nothing, except some background information that no one would find in the "authorized" biographies lining every bookshelf in the wizarding world.  
  
For starters, I was never fascinated by Cho Chang. She was a damned fine Quiddich player, don't get me wrong; she just wasn't my type at all. She being the operative term here. I've known since third year that I prefer blokes to birds, and did my best to keep that little tidbit of trivia out of the presses.  
  
Next, the whole rivalry between me and Draco Malfoy was completely overdone after third year. During the Tri-Wizard Tournament, I was just trying to stay alive - why waste useless energy maintaining the oh-so-stimulating banter with a bunch of Slytherin neandrathals? (Sorry love, you were just a scrawny kid back then...) Of course, I would back up Ron and 'Moine if they got in a confrontation with the Ferret, but Malfoy-torture lost alot of its appeal after facing that damned dragon.  
  
Also, the whole beloved enemy thing with Potions Master Snape is a crock of shite. After the first month of having to listen to how wonderful I was for simply surviving the killing curse, I was thrilled to have one person who didn't put me on a silly pedestal and slobber on my robes. Sev kept me sane throughout all my years of school, although I'm sure he might disagree with that assessment at times.  
  
Contrary to popular myth, I never hated Poppy Pomphrey either. She is a truly gifted mediwitch, and I am grateful for every vile potion she shoved down my throat.  
  
Speaking of vile.. Albus Dumbledore, my beloved mentor, should be listed in the ten most wanted for dangerous and compulsive manipulation, with a side order of mind-mucking and deadly use of guilt. Albus, you kept me alive, I'll acknowledge that. But you stole my childhood with your stupid tests and lures, throwing me in the path of so many aging situations that I never had a chance to learn who I was until it was almost too late.  
  
Sirius, I know you'll want at least a dishonorable mention, so here's your blast: You are a bad influence, a rotten father figure, a terrible grudge- keeper, and I love you. No respect for you, of course, but you don't want respect, do you? You'd rather have a bevy of witches trailing you across Britain. That's fine, you're welcomed to any and all you can convince to bed you.  
  
Remus Lupin - Mr. Contradiction - who taught me how to defend myself from the horrors placed in front of me time and again; who braved the terrors of teaching teenagers about Dark Arts and how to fight them; who laughed and loved and lived better than most purebloods I've ever met. Remy, there isn't a day that goes by without me missing your gentle smile and warm heart. I'm going to adopt a litter of werewolf pups in your memory.  
  
At last, I should mention my "best friends": Ron and Hermoine. True, they stuck by me through every trial and danger (often putting themselves at greater risk, making me feel guilty as hell if I couldn't save them fast enough). True again, they stayed by my side every time I was laid up in the Hospital Wing (where I lived almost a quarter of my total time at school, a regular visitor, often due to saving their asses). They also forced me into one blind date after another with mindless Potter Fan Club members, making my last two years of school completely miserable - for a good cause, in their eyes. I love you two, but do me a favor? Stay the hell away from my love life!  
   
 

  
   
The final awards ceremony is over. It took forever, but that's probably good - it gave me time for a good, long nap before heading home to a much more satisfying party with my lovers. My speech was uninspired and halted; public speaking was never a strong point of mine, and the subject matter is just so boring these days that I have a hard time giving a damn. Luckily for me, my presence was only needed for the first two hours, after which I bolted out of the ballroom for a quick shower before Apparating home.  
  
Home. Such a simple word, yet with so very much meaning. The stories of how horrid my muggle relatives treated me were downplayed for the masses. Apparently someone felt that constant abuse by one small family of muggles against the Golden Boy would result in full-scale anti-muggle revolution. What they did to me for the better part of my life doesn't really matter. Vernon is dead (heart failure, probably from obesity and no exercise), Petunia is broke and living off her miserable son, and Dudley is on disability provisions since he's so large he can't even fit through the emergency room doors. If I believed in karma, I would consider their sins paid in full.  
  
As my feet touched ground at Snape Manor, I felt my heart lighten and the foul mood of bureaucracy fading into the distance. Waiting for me on the large front porch were my two loves, each anticipating a rough night of my self-pity. They know me well, and react perfectly every time. Draco mocks my desire to leave the spotlight; Sev simply glares at me, knowing that his scowl will be more effective than a dozen Pepper-Up potions. Within half an hour of arriving home, my mood is much improved and my appetite returned. (I'm sure that one of them slipped some of the aforementioned potion into my brandy after dinner.) My delightfully cunning Slytherins, always anticipating my needs and hurts. Either one would be heaven, but combined they are the ultimate universal balm for my soul.  
  
Stepping into their waiting arms, I'm surprised again how close we three are in height and musculature. Other than hair, eye and skin color, we could be closely related.. yet I'm very glad I don't have to break that particular code of ethics. Sev and Dray are my salvation, the twin heartbeats that keep my own in a steady rhythm, ordering me to survive and thrive within their tender mechanisms. Draco's pale skin, silver hair and smoky grey eyes. Sev's wan complexion, thick black hair that always smells of his workshop, and jet black eyes. Carbon copies of each other. I outgrew that famous Gryffindor optimism years ago, growing into the Slytherin side of myself. My dormmates never saw - they never wanted to look closely enough - but Sev and Dray nurtured it in me, providing me with the will to survive and the fortitude to continue after watching my friends die. What irony, the former Death Eater and the future Prince of Darkness being my ticket to victory and sanity. No one in the wizarding world would believe that, but again I find that I just don't care.  
   
   
   
Yeah, I'm the Boy Who Bloody Lived, so who cares? The wizarding world got what they wanted - a dead Dark Lord, and a poster child for their oh-so- wonderful Light Cause - and now I've got all I want. My lovers, my family. My sanity, even if the rest of the known universe can't accept it.


End file.
